


Elemental

by ryukoishida



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto can't remember how or why he ended up here at a place called Iwatobi Tattoo Parlour on a Thursday night. Okay, so he might have had a little too much to drink. And he's lost a bet against Nagisa, who's daring him to get a tattoo of his choice in return. Too bad the gorgeous but aloof tattoo artist seems to think Makoto's just a drunken idiot trying to hit on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Water

(i) Water

 

            "Wha – Nagisa – what the hell is this place?" 

 

            Rin looks up from his textbook as the door opens, bringing in three young men and a blast of hot, dry wind that blows back his dark red bangs and instantly wakes him from the lull of the evening. He sighs, slapping his book shut a little impatiently, and turns down the stereo that is currently playing a Naitomea album. He's been hoping that with only thirty minutes to go before closing time on a Thursday night, the chances of customers coming in this late would be slim. But then there are always those few people who seem to end up here without knowing how or why.

 

            From the looks of the confused young man with the messy brown hair standing between his two friends – the shortest one looking as excited as a child in a candy store, while the taller man with stylish red-rimmed glasses glowers around the store front disapprovingly – it looks to Rin that the trio falls into the latter category.

 

            "Welcome to Iwatobi. How may I help you?" Rin tries to sound professional, but recent finals and long work shifts have been taking a toll on him. His voice is scratchy from not speaking for awhile.

 

            "Rin-chan! I didn't know you work here," the short, blond-haired man jumps eagerly towards the counter.

 

            "Nagisa, what are you doing here?" Rin asks, stunned.

 

            "So, is this where you got all your tattoos done?" Nagisa wonders, pointedly ignoring his question, his eyes bright with interest.

 

            "Uh, yeah. My friend works here as a tattoo artist," Rin replies, still unsure of how he manages to run into his college swim team teammate at a tattoo parlour where he works at, of all places. "So can I help you boys with anything?" Rin glances at the other two men: the confused-looking one appears to be quite tired now, as he has found a resting spot on one of the chairs lining the wall that are for waiting customers, and the glasses-clad one is still looking around with suspicion to everything from the piercing display on the counters to the numerous of tattoo designs hanging up on the walls.

 

            "Mako-chan wants to get a tattoo," Nagisa nods his head towards the fellow half-asleep in the chair.

 

            "Are you sure your friend wants to do this?" Rin is familiar with Nagisa enough to know what sort of shenanigans he can be up to.

 

            "He lost a bet, and since he's got no money to pay, I've decided that he should get an alternative form of punishment instead," Nagisa grins, and Rin shudders, noting for future reference never to bet against the petite blond or get on his bad side.

 

            "Damn you and your bet, Nagisa," the victim calls out weakly from his corner, an arm raised for an offensive purpose but ends up just flopping uselessly to his side.

 

            "Language, Mako-chan," Nagisa tsks, and turns to his other friend. "Rei-chan, see anything that catches your eye?"

 

            "Why would anyone want to willingly go through such physical pain and trouble to get an image etched on their skin permanently?" Rei poses the question to no one in particular.

 

            Rin raises a critical brow. "Got a problem with body art, sir?"

 

            Rei stares at the red-haired man who has just addressed him. He really should learn to keep particular thoughts to himself one of these days, even though clearly today is not the day. He can see why the employee might have been offended by his insensitive question though; he doesn't know how he could have missed the intricate weave of geometric lines that crawl in an elegant pattern along the length of his right arm that his baggy sleeveless shirt does nothing to conceal.

 

            "Uh, no," Rei laughs nervously, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

 

            "Don't mind him, Rin-chan," Nagisa turns back to the red-haired man with a grin, "Anyway, you got any suggestions for a first-time tattoo experience?"

 

            "It really depends on what your friend wants," Rin looks at Makoto again with an uncertain expression.

 

            "I want nothing," Makoto moans from his corner, his eyes still closed, eyebrows slightly drawn together in irritation, and he adds in a small voice after a pause, "Have I mentioned? I hate needles."

 

            "I didn't know you to be such a dishonourable man who goes around breaking promises," Nagisa says, hands on his hips and a pout on his boyish face.

 

            "At this point, I don't really give a damn about my reputation," Makoto attempts to sit up from his slouched position, but this chair is just too comfortable, "I just want to find a comfortable place to lie down and wait for the hangover to come torture me in the morning." His voice trails off towards the end of his statement; the three men can only hear mumbles of occasional words from the drunken figure.

 

            "Makoto-senpai, don't fall asleep here!" Rei rushes over and tries to pull him up but he seems adamant in staying in the seat.

 

            It's too much for Rin to handle at the moment: drunk, barely-conscious customer, easily excitable and possibly evil blond swimmer, a man who looks like he’ll get a heart-attack simply from looking at pictures of excessive piercing, and this godforsaken heat despite the air-conditioner in the store. It's the end of the day; he's beyond exhausted and he wants nothing more than to get out of work without a hassle. He'll let someone else deal with this. Haruka won't mind; at least that's what Rin hopes anyway.

 

            "Haru, client!" Rin yells. Makoto lets out another piteous moan from the orotund shout and curls his legs underneath him like a displeased child.

 

            "Rin, there's no need to shout so loudly," a calm, silvery voice drifts out from the opening door at the back of the store, revealing a young man with a mob of dark locks and cobalt eyes. He wordlessly examines the current situation for a short moment, taking note of Rin's 'please help me deal with this group of oddballs' look, Nagisa's cheerful wave in greeting (which he returns with a stoic nod), Rei's curious glance, and lastly Makoto's curled up form and wide green eyes.

 

            Yes, Makoto is decidedly wide awake now at the sound of the man's strangely serene tone. When his blurry vision finally focuses on the figure with multiple piercings on the helices and lobes of his ears, the blue-white stripped shirt and khaki shorts who is currently staring at him brazenly with his dark blue eyes, and the image finally catches up to his brain, he jolts awake and thinks, 'Oh. Shit.'

 

            "Oh. Shit." Makoto covers his mouth in alarm upon recognizing his own voice. He didn't think he'd still be able to form words at this state of being, but he has obviously underestimated himself.

 

            The man whom Rin has referred to as 'Haru' quirks a delicate brow, and Makoto with his face suddenly aflame – whether it's from embarrassment or the stifled heat, he honestly can't find it in himself to care – wishes for the ground to open up and swallow his whole being.

 

            "This is Haruka Nanase," Rin introduces the man with a casual wave of his hand, "my childhood friend and one of the best damn tattoo artists you'll ever meet." Haruka gives him a pointed glare, which Rin most definitely notices but chooses to ignore with a shrug and cheeky grin. "Most of the designs you see here are his work, so if you want a tattoo, he's your man."

 

            "Nanase-kun, is it?" Nagisa excitedly jumps in with a big smile. "I'm Nagisa Hazuki; Rin-chan and I attend the same university and we're in the swim team together."

 

            "Is that so?" Haruka replies calmly, and he flashes a quick glance at the man on the chair again, who's now sluggishly getting back up to his feet, slightly swaying and needing to hold on to the back of the chair to steady his footing.

 

            Sensing the man's steely gaze on him, Makoto feels very self-conscious all of a sudden: his hair is too messy and his attires too crumpled, his throat too dry and his brain too slow to think of anything clever to say. He tries to straighten his back in order to make himself stand taller, but the abrupt movement has only succeeded in adding to his dizziness.

 

            "Makoto Tachibana," he manages to say, pointing at himself as if it isn't clear enough.

 

            The man stares back at him blankly.

 

            "That's my name," he clarifies. 

 

            "Well then, Tachibana-kun, are you drunk?" At this point, Makoto understands Haruka Nanase is a man who just goes straight for the jugular and doesn't bother to beat around the bush with bullshit. It's a rare quality in men these days, his alcohol-addled brain helpfully adds, but he nevertheless winces at the icy tone, and that's enough of an answer for the tattoo artist.

 

            "Uh... possibly?"

 

            Haruka exhales through his nose, thin brows drawn together and obviously not impressed. He turns to the other two and asks, "So which one of you wants to get a tattoo?"

 

            Before Nagisa can open his mouth, Makoto stammers, a shaking arm raised like a timid child trying to get the teacher's attention but is actually so nervous that he hopes the teacher will just ignore him. "Actually... that would also be me."

 

            Haruka wastes no time in his answer, "I don't do drunk clients."

 

            "What do you mean?" Makoto asks indignantly; his voice sounds too high, almost hysterical. He's not that drunk. What the hell. He doesn't even want a goddamn tattoo in the first place; it's a good thing this man is refusing his services. He's doing Makoto a favour, and yet, here he is, voluntarily asking the stranger to put a needle on his skin. 

 

            "If you're too intoxicated to even understand what I'm saying, then you're definitely in no condition to make such a rash decision," Haruka crosses his arms, his lips tightened firmly.

 

            "Th-that is not what I mean," Makoto protests. "I mean, why not?"

 

            "He lost a bet - " Nagisa begins to explain, but he's immediately disrupted by Haruka's incredulous expression and a voice that’s tightened like a taunt string ready to snap.

 

            "No, absolutely not," Haruka's tone denotes finality and he will accept no further discussion.

 

            Nagisa tries to send a meaningful glare at Rin's direction, but the taller man just laughs.

 

            "You have no idea how many drunk customers or people who lose bets come wandering into our shop, do you? The answer is too many to keep count. Anyway," Rin chances a glimpse at the tattoo artist, who is still unmoved by their explanations, "I think you've just lost that one, boys." Rin tells them with a shark-like grin.

 

            Strangers can't even begin to understand how eccentric and peculiar his best friend can get regarding tattoos, and these three men have somehow coincidentally stepped on Haruka's two biggest pet-peeves. Tough luck for them, Rin thinks.

 

            "Tachibana-kun," Haruka calls out much more calmly this time, taking a business card from the counter and scribbling something messily on it with a pen. The muscles of his arm flex and relax at the movement of his hand, and Makoto inadvertently notices the tattoo on his upper right arm half-hidden by his shirt; they look like a ring of black Chinese texts that are unintelligible to him, even when he's sober, but he can make out the character for water. He vaguely wonders if water plays an important role in Haruka's life. 

 

            He makes his way towards Makoto and stops before him with a respectable distance between them. Being a few inches shorter means Haruka has to slightly tilt his head up to meet Makoto's eyes.

 

            "Uh, yes, Nanase-kun?" Up close, Makoto thinks he can count the lashes outlining the man's ridiculously attractive eyes. How can one's eyes be this bright and beautiful and so, _so_ blue? The poet in him thinks he can write haikus about those eyes that are as deep and true as the ocean itself. Wait, is he wearing colour contact lenses? God, just how many drinks _did_ he have? All these fanciful, random questions and thoughts flutter in his mind like an assemblage of excited butterflies that won't leave him alone.

 

            Haruka stuffs the card into his hand. "If you've considered carefully and still want to do this, then when you've decided what sort of design you want, come find me."

 

            Makoto's fingers tighten around the card; he doesn't feel the edge cutting into his palm at all.

 

            "I will."

 

            "Now, I need to kindly kick all of you out because it's time for us to close the shop," Haruka steps away from him and turns around to face the others, his voice returning to that cool, detached timbre that Makoto first heard.

 

But when Haruka was giving him the card, Makoto swears that something warmer had seeped through into that usually composed tone. Subconsciously, he thinks he'd pursue every word that the voice says, and listen to everything that the owner of that voice wants; that in itself is already a dangerous thought.

 

            Makoto never considers himself to be a person who's easily drawn in by such peril. He likes peace and quiet; his favourite pastime is reading; the most outrageous thing he has ever done so far in his twenty-odd years of life was swimming in the ocean butt-naked with his friends the night after their high school graduation celebration and had almost drowned in the process (he has sworn never to do it again, though getting to swim under the stars made it almost worth it). So, what the hell is he doing – crushing on unattainable, gorgeous tattoo artist and actually contemplating on getting permanent ink on his skin through painful means?

 

            Haruka Nanase seems to have become a sudden anomaly in his otherwise uneventful, dismal life.


	2. Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seducing that gorgeous tattoo artist (with a little bit of help from his friends); attempt number two. In which Makoto writes Haruka a note to ask him out, and Haruka misunderstands his intention. Hilarity and more embarrassment ensue.

(ii) Air

 

            "If you're the one who wants to do it, then why am I here again?"

 

            "For mental support?"

 

            "Nagisa, you're getting your ears pierced, and you're nineteen years old. You don't need me there to hold your hand," Makoto sounds exasperated.

 

            "What if you're the one who's getting a piercing?" Nagisa shoots back, crimson eyes looking up innocently.

 

            "That's not fair," Makoto whines. "You know I have an excessive fear of sharp, pointy things."

 

            "And yet you'd let Nanase-kun pierce you with said sharp, pointy things." For some reason, the blond's words made Makoto's cheeks feel too warm. He would blame the summer weather, but the sky is overcast and heavy with moisture today.

 

            "Nagisa! That just sounds dirty!"

 

            "Only because your brain reads it that way, Mako-chan," Nagisa teases his friend in a sing-song tone and dances away, giggling madly. "Shame on you!"

 

            "Come back here, you little - " He begins to chase after Nagisa, who is tiny and quick enough to dash and weave around pedestrians with ease while Makoto keeps bumping into people and having to apologize repeatedly.

 

            Eventually, with Nagisa still beaming and Makoto heaving laboriously with his hand against the glass pane for support, they are once again in front of Iwatobi Tattoo Parlour, one month, twelve days, and nine hours after their first visit.

 

            "And why do you have to do it here?" Makoto tries to look through the window to see if a certain dark-haired tattoo artist is inside, but all he can make out is the red-headed employee from last time reading at the counter again. He can't decide whether or not this is a good thing.

 

            "It's for your own good," Nagisa mutters under his breath as he opens the door.

 

            "What did you say?" Makoto follows close behind and is immediately engulfed by the sound of Coldplay drifting breezily from the stereo system.

 

            "Welcome to – Oh, it's you," Rin greets them with a lazy wave of his hand, but at least he's putting down the manga he was reading.

 

            "That is no way to treat customers, Rin-chan!"

 

            "Yeah? Unless you're here to spend money on our various services, you are not a customer, and therefore, I don't need to treat you like one," Rin replies smoothly without missing a beat.

 

            "Actually, it just so happens that I am, in fact, requesting your expertise."

 

            Rin sighs. "Go on, then."

 

            "I would like to get my ears pierced," Nagisa grins.

 

            "Come again?" But Rin is now looking at Makoto, and is given a nod in confirmation.

 

            "Take a look at these and pick something," Rin tells him without further questioning, pushing a display case of earrings and studs of various metals towards Nagisa. Rin has learned that, with Nagisa, it’s just better to stay quiet and not say anything at all to save himself the trouble. "I'll go sanitize the equipment and I'll call you when I'm ready."

 

            While Nagisa inspects the rows of earrings and the little signs underneath them that explain the metal types and levels of possible allergic reaction, he casually throws out an off-handed comment, "So Mako-chan, why don't you take this chance and go ask Nanase-kun out?"

 

            "What?" Makoto yelps, but says in a quieter voice when he realizes how loud and obvious his initial reaction was, "Where the hell did that come from?"

 

            "You could woo him with poetry, you know," Nagisa continues, his eyes still on the glittering studs as he pokes at them with interest. "You're good at that literary stuff."

 

            "I will do no such thing," Makoto crosses his arms, not really caring if he's beginning to sound like a petulant child, or the fact that his unconvincing tone is a denial more than anything else. There are more important things he should be worried about. "Besides, I don't think he's even working today."

 

            "Ah ha!" Nagisa turns around quickly with a frightfully bright glint in his eyes and a wide, knowing grin on his lips, "I knew it. You _were_ watching out for him."

 

            "I - " There's no way Makoto is going to win this, is there? "I refuse to participate in this conversation," he tells Nagisa instead, stalking off to the corner of the store where the chairs are, and promptly sits himself on one of them. Before he can hide his face behind a magazine, however, Nagisa has already spotted the blush on the older boy's cheeks that tells him everything he needs to know.

 

            "Say, where's Nanase-kun?" Nagisa asks in a conspiring whisper when Rin returns, glancing over to Makoto's figure on the chair in case he's paying them any attention, but the brunet is too engrossed in a tattoo art magazine to notice their conversation. 

 

            "Haru?" The red-haired man looks at him with a trace of suspicion, vaguely wondering what sort of outrageous ideas the blond has up in his little head this time. "He's helping a customer at the back." He nods towards the curtained area, where Nagisa can see silhouettes moving about and the occasional buzzing noises of what he presumes to be the tattoo machine.

 

            "What sort of evil deeds are you plotting this time, Nagisa?" Rin looks at him warily. To be honest, he's a little afraid to find out.

 

            "Why does everyone just assumes that I have ulterior motives?" Nagisa protests.

 

            "Because you're you," Rin tells the shorter boy with a snort, leading the way towards one of the work stations at the back of the room. "Come on. You can tell me more about your master plan while I punch holes into your ears."

 

            "Sounds good to me!"

 

            When he hears the swish of a closed curtain, Makoto throws down the magazine he was pretending to read onto the corner table with a long exhale. So, Haruka is working today after all, his brain helpfully reminds him. Now he doesn't have an excuse. Not that he's trying to deny that he is, in fact, harbouring a bit of a crush for the man with ice cold eyes and an even colder attitude. Makoto can only blame himself; if he didn't get so drunk and ended up making such a fool of himself that evening, he thinks he might still stand a chance.

 

            Without thinking too much of it, he pulls out a small Moleskin notebook and the attached pencil from his back pocket – his constant companion when he needs to jot down ideas and inspirations for the book of poems he's currently working on – and flips to the business card that's been slipped in between the pages. He can just call the number written there and send the man a simple text – just a "hi" to start off will probably do the trick. But the more Makoto stares at the number, the more it seems to mock him, as if it was challenging him with an, "Oh, so you don't even have the guts to talk to him face-to-face, huh?" 

 

            'Maybe Nagisa's idea isn't so bad after all,' Makoto ponders, biting the tip of his pencil with a slight frown. It's not hard to compose something about the mysterious, dark-haired boy; he's been thinking about Haruka ever since the night they met and the only reason why he still hasn't act yet is because he doesn't want to screw this up.

 

            He's already messed up once. He can't afford to do something equally stupid again.

 

            "Alright then," Makoto mutters with sudden determination, his pencil scratching noisily across the paper. The poem is nothing fancy; Makoto is a firm believer of the "less is more" theory, and this reflects in his creative writing as well. After reading the lines a few more times to make sure there aren't any embarrassing grammar or spelling mistakes, and also wondering what's taking Nagisa so long ('How many piercings _is_ he getting?'), he finally deems it suitable and tears out the page.

 

            On second thought, he flips the piece of paper over and adds the most important question of all, and his cell number, just to be on the safe side. Just to make sure that Haruka gets the point.

 

            "Mako-chan!" Nagisa skips out from the back with a big grin on his face, and spins around once in front of Makoto, who hastily puts his notebook back and puts on a neutral expression. "What do you think?"

 

            The auburn-haired man obediently checks out the dainty black bead studs on both of his earlobes and is about to compliment him when he notices something else on Nagisa's face.

 

            "Oh my god."

 

            "What? What?" Nagisa's crimson eyes grow wide with concern.

 

            "You... you've got a lip-ring," Makoto points out weakly, his gaze still drawn to the thin silver ring to the left corner of Nagisa's bottom lip. "Your mom is so going to kill you."

 

            Nagisa's expression visibly relaxes after Makoto's anti-climatic reveal. "Oh, that. There are worst things for my mom to worry about; she's not going to freak out over something this small." He waves his hand dismissively, as if Makoto's the one who's worrying too much.

 

            Just as Makoto is about to reply, the curtain of the other work station slides open and out steps a scarlet-haired girl who can't be that much younger than himself. Her upper left arm is bandaged, and she's touching Haruka's shoulder with a level of intimacy that makes Makoto wants to simultaneously look away and strangle the girl.

 

            "Thanks again, Haru onii-chan! I can hardly feel a thing, and the design looks so amazing already. I can't wait until it's healed," she gives the taller man a light hug, which Haruka awkwardly returns with a timid smile.

 

            "Glad you like it, Gou. You still remember the aftercare instructions, right?"

 

            "I still got that sheet you gave me last time I was here," the girl tells him. Haruka nods with approval, and when she goes rushing towards Rin, who's just finished cleaning up the piercing equipment, he finally notices Makoto standing beside Nagisa.

 

            "It's you," his blue eyes widen slightly, as if surprised to see him in the shop. "Tachibana-kun."

 

            "I - " Makoto is trying to recover from the shock that the other man remembers his name to give a proper reply. He clears his throat and starts again, "Ah, yes. Hello." Very smooth, Makoto, very smooth indeed.

 

            "I think he's got something to show you," Rin is looking at the piece of paper in Makoto's hand.

 

            "Well?" Haruka is looking at him expectantly.

 

            "It's better if I show this to you without an audience watching," Makoto sends them all a dark glare, and they have the guts to either shrug as is in Rin's case or just outright giving him a thumbs-up signal like Nagisa is doing. Even the stranger named Gou is looking at him with an amused smile.

 

            Shaking his head, Makoto begins to walk back to the station that Haruka was working at, and the other man follows him without a word. He closes the curtain from the group's obviously prying eyes and faces Haruka, who has an unreadable expression that is verging on between curiosity and impatience.

 

            "What is it that you want to show me?"

 

            "Uh, here." Makoto thrusts the now crumpled note into Haruka's hand, who has to smooth out the page in order to read its contents. The brunet refuses to look at Haruka and is staring at his own feet instead, hands hidden behind his back as restless fingers pull and smooth the fabric of his shirt without Haruka's detection.

 

            The silence is growing heavy; even the conversation at the front of the store seems to die down in anticipation of what's happening behind the curtain.

 

            "Nanase-kun?" The fact that Haruka is still not giving any sign of reaction is unnerving. Even if he's being rejected, Haruka would be saying something, and the longer he stays silent, the more Makoto's heart seems to be sinking.

 

            "Alright then," Haruka sounds resolved, feeding the piece of paper into the mouth of an apparatus that looks like a small fax machine. He presses a button and lets it do its work. Makoto watches as his poem disappears into the device. 

 

            "So... you'll do it?" Makoto wants to make sure, finally finding the courage to look up, only to be faced Haruka's back as he appears to be fiddling with the tattoo equipment.

 

            "If you're sure that's what you want, then I don't have any opinion in the matter," Haruka replies.

 

            "Oh, I've never been surer about anything in my life," Makoto declares.

 

            "Please take a seat," Haruka waves at the cushioned reclined chair while he tinkers with the tattoo machine some more. Something doesn't feel quite right, Makoto's brain is informing him as he sits down despite the uneasy feeling.

 

            "You'll need to do some paper work," Haruka says as he settle down in his own work chair, a new sheet with the familiar words stencilled on it between his fingers. "But you can do that afterwards, I suppose. Are you ready, Tachibana-kun?" His eyes are seriously the most beautiful shade of blue Makoto has ever seen, and maybe that has made his logical reasoning a little deranged because it takes him a moment to process before Haruka's words truly sink in.

 

            "Wait, what?" Makoto looks at him blankly, the confusion on his face makes the man looks like a very lost, albeit adorable, puppy.

 

            "Are you ready to get your poem tattooed on your skin?" Haruka lets out a long-suffering sigh and asks.

 

            "No! Of course not!" Makoto shoots up from the chair, and now that he can think more clearly without the nerves and Haruka's stupidly pretty eyes to distract him, he finally understands what went wrong.

 

            And good god, is Nagisa never going to let him live it down. Hell, at this rate, he just wants to crawl out of here and never show his face in this shop ever again if it means to erase the surprised and appalled expression from Haruka's face.

 

            "I am so, _so_ sorry about this," Makoto backs up until he hits the curtain. "Please don't take it personally." At that point, he literally rips the fabric aside and dashes out of Haruka's sight, almost tripping in a rush to get away.

 

            "Makoto-kun, are you - " Rin doesn't get to finish his question as the brunet flies past him and Gou, drags Nagisa along on his way while the blond waves his arms wildly in a futile attempt to escape from his friend's grasp.

 

            "It was nice to meet you, Kou-chan!" Nagisa manages to call out before Makoto can pull him out of the store.

 

            "It's Gou, damn it!" But the two have already disappeared behind the glass door.

 

            "What the fuck did you do this time, Haru?" Rin chuckles as Haruka walks out from the work station, Makoto's note in his hand.

 

            "So that's the infamous Makoto, eh?" Gou adds, eyes twinkling with mischief. Haruka chooses to ignore her comment and instead, puts the piece of paper on the counter, his brows drawn together in a frown.

 

            "I didn't do anything," he replies, looking up at Rin with calm eyes, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. "At least, I don't think I did." His expression falters a little.

 

            "Let's see what he's written," Rin snatches up the crumpled paper, and Gou sidles up against her brother to read the note.

 

            "I mean, one minute he seemed very determined to get the tattoo, and the next minute he went berserk on me like I was about to murder him," Haruka explains, shaking his head. "I wish he'd just make up his mind, you know?"

 

            "Oh, that boy's got his mind made up all right," Rin grins, and Gou giggles, taking the paper from her brother's hand.

 

            "What do you mean?" Haruka asks, irritated that he seems to be the only one who's missed the punch line of the joke here.

 

            "Listen to this," Gou clears her throat before reciting the note with such a ridiculous accent that Rin has a hard time controlling his laughter, "Mystic as the sea, blue weave from dreams, vivid thoughts, let me drift in you." The girl sends Haruka a knowing look, but the man is just as lost as before. He's read the poem before; he knows what it's about. What is Gou's point in repeating it?

 

            "Oh Haru onii-chan, don't you get it?" Gou heaves a dramatic sigh, stuffing the paper back into Haruka's hand.

 

            "No?" The dark-haired man looks at Gou, then at her brother, who keeps giving him this smug, shark-like grin as if he can't believe his best friend is this slow-witted.

 

            "Look at the other side of the paper," Rin suggests.

 

            He does, and as his eyes skim across the question and the phone number underneath it, Haruka's only thought is, 'Oh. _Oh._ ' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH MISUNDERSTANDING. I enjoy torturing those two, don't I? Don't worry, it'll all end happily, I promise. Also, Makoto’s haiku was written by me. I’m sorry.


	3. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like Haruka has finally decided to fix this mess up that was partly – fine, mostly – his fault.

(iii) Fire

 

            It’s been a week and two days since the “incident”.

 

            The piece of paper with Makoto’s hastily written poem and phone number has been folded and unfurled so many times that the creases are beginning to fray, the pencil marks blurring into grey, charcoal streaks the more Haruka runs his finger over the surface.

 

            “Are you ever going to give the guy a call?” Rin kicks his stool to get his attention as he flips through another page of his manga. The shop is quiet, as expected on a weekday afternoon; only the sweet melody of Jill Barber’s blasé soprano voice accompanies them as the antique fan creaks pathetically above their heads, the slightest of breeze from its slow spin only sending warm, moist air that circulates throughout the shop.

 

            Nobody in their right mind would want to linger around long enough to get a piercing or tattoo in this kind of atmosphere. Haruka slumps down on his stool beside his best friend, his chin resting on his palm and a troubled sigh resonating from his throat.

 

            “I don’t know,” he finally mumbles, words slightly muffled by the fingers over his mouth as he stares at the piece of paper in his hand once more, as if looking at it long enough will give him a clue of what to do next. “I think I’ve scared him pretty badly the last time he was here. I’m not sure if he’d even want to see me again.”

 

            “Oh, trust me,” Rin places his book down, spine facing up to keep the page he’s been reading, and turns to Haruka with a knowing grin. “If someone’s wooing you with poetry, you can be sure as hell that they’re head over heels for you.” He nods reassuringly at the dark-haired man, but Haruka isn’t paying him any heed, his mind too preoccupied by the restless thoughts in his head.

 

            “That’s before I tried to poke him with a needle though,” Haruka seems unsure, a small frown etched between his brows, and he folds up the paper into a little square again. He has the man’s number saved on his phone anyhow.

 

            “True.” Rin chuckles, obviously still amused by the memory of Makoto running away with comedic clumsiness that day. “It really comes down to whether or not you want to see him again, Haru. He asked you out; you can accept or reject him. Either way, you shouldn’t leave the poor guy hanging.”

 

            “Rin,” he starts, glancing at his friend in a steady manner that Rin has no idea what he can be thinking about.

 

            “What?” He sounds a little wary whenever Haruka looks at him like that, his body reflexively backing away as much as he can given that he’s still seated in his stool.

 

            “You are quite scary when you give people actual, helpful and sensible advice,” a quiet, teasing smirk graces Haruka’s mouth.

 

            “Fuck you, Haru,” Rin huffs, picking up his manga from where he left off and pointedly turns away from Haruka, who only smiles, squeezing the red-head’s shoulder gently and muttering a small “thanks”.

 

            Haruka takes out his phone from his back pocket and after his fingers hover over the screen for a few short seconds, he decides the best way to go about this is to stop overthinking so damn much and just go with the flow.

 

-

 

            When Makoto feels the buzz of his phone that signals an incoming text message, he’s expecting Nagisa asking him for the third time that day if he can come over to visit him at the cat café he’s working at because according to the blonde’s latest text from an hour ago, “The shop’s so quiet and there are only so much I can talk about with the kitties.” He had rolled his eyes at his friend’s overly dramatic antics and continued his work.

 

            He definitely isn’t expecting a text from an unknown number, and as his curiosity gets the better of him, he opens up the message, a thick, hardcover edition of _Les Mis_ _érables_ that he’s about to shelve away still in his other hand, which turns out to be a terrible mistake because once his eyes have scanned the message once, then twice, Makoto is so shocked that he doesn’t feel the book slips through his loosened hold and it clatters with a heavy thud on the lacquered floor of the bookstore.

 

            “Damn it,” Makoto mutters, dropping to his knees to pick up the volume when the store’s manager, a friendly, petite woman with wavy, caramel-coloured hair named Miho Amakata, rounds the corner with a concerned expression, a stack of books haphazardly stacked in her arms.

 

            “Makoto-kun! Are you alright?”

 

            “Ah, yes, Amakata-san. Sorry about that!” He scrambles to gather the book and frantically checks for any damage; when he finds none, he blows out a sigh of relief.

 

            “Have you been reading again?” Miho places the books on the nearby shelf before giving the man a slightly disapproved look but there is no trace of anger in her words; she understands the urge to read something that bears an interesting cover and to lose track once getting too absorbed in the story. After all, she has a tendency to do that herself, so she can hardly blame her young employee, whom she knows to be an avid, enthusiastic reader and a striving creative writer, for occasionally doing that.

 

            “Um, yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck self-consciously, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. Better to let the manager think that than having her tease him about what a pathetic loser he is when it comes to asking his crush out; he got enough of that from Nagisa last week already, thank you very much. “Sorry.”

 

            “Just make sure none of the customers see,” Miho shakes her head with a small smile, “and finish shelving those books before you go on your break.” She nods at the cart of cardboard boxes behind Makoto.

 

            “Yes, ma’am,” Makoto hurriedly places the book he’s still holding into the slot between Victor Hugo’s _The Hunchback of Notre-Dame_ and Kazuo Ishiguro’s _Never Let Me Go_. When he senses that Miho has wandered away far enough to be deemed a safe distance, the brunet stares at the words on his screen again.

 

**From: Unknown**

**Sorry for almost giving you a tattoo the other day. Will you let me make it up to you? – Haruka Nanase**

 

 

            He wonders if maybe visiting Nagisa after his shift might not be such a bad idea after all. Though the mockery may never end, Makoto is almost willing to endure it if his friend can give him at least some useful guidance regarding this matter. Playing with cats and having some caffeine in his system will probably help, too, he supposes, already typing a speedy reply to Nagisa before getting back to work.

 

            As for the tattoo artist’s text, Makoto glances at it one more time, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of those sharp, cerulean eyes and fluctuating inked lines on his skin, and honestly, with those distracting images swirling in his mind, he is having a difficult time concentrating on his job as it is; he can’t be expected to type out a reply that would make any sort of sense in that mindset, right?

 

            Makoto decides to leave it until his head has cooled down enough to make logical judgments.

 

-

 

            Haruka isn’t holding out too much hope by the time evening rolls around the same day he sends Makoto the text. He isn’t the type of person to dwell on something and brood about it until it turns into a distraction that affects the quality of his work and life, but once he’s settled in his bed and is getting ready to sleep that night, the silent phone sitting stubbornly dark and ominous on his bedside table suddenly becomes much more of an obvious nuisance.

 

            That is, until it vibrates – just once – to announce an incoming text. Haruka’s hand is definitely not shaking in excitement as he gingerly touches the screen to click on the message bubble, the brightness of his phone being the only source of light in his room.

 

**From: Makoto Tachibana**

**What do you say to cats and coffee?**

 

            “Huh?” He raises his brows quizzically, confused for a moment as he tries to put the two items in the question together and finally draws the conclusion that Makoto must be talking about a meeting at a cat café. (Yes, a meeting, a rendezvous, a social engagement… Whatever it is, it’s most certainly not a date. That’s what Haruka keeps telling himself anyway.)

 

            After they figure out the date and location of their not-a-date, their words seeming much more distant and formal when viewed on a screen, Haruka lies down on his bed, eyes blinking in the near darkness as he lets his body relax into the sheets.

 

Makoto Tachibana might have come into Iwatobi Tattoo Parlour and met him by a drunken accident, and Haruka had not been impressed by the way the brunet so carelessly decide to put permanent ink on himself or the way he stutters like a bumbling fool in his intoxicated haze, but even Haruka has to admit that receiving a handwritten poem from Makoto – though Haruka had clearly made a ludicrous misunderstanding that day which initiates this whole chain of events in the first place – is a rather romantic gesture.

 

            And if he’s being honest with himself, Haruka is always very clear on what he wants and doesn’t want, and he’s not afraid to voice it out. So for him to hesitate over whether or not to contact this almost-stranger is nearly unheard of; Haruka guesses that just means that he’s not totally impervious to the man’s wooing in the end.

 

            Even though their first meeting had not been a remarkable one, Haruka believes in second chances – both for Makoto and himself – to make things right, or at least less awkward, this time around.

 

-

 

            “So, Tachibana-kun,” Haruka examines his surroundings calmly, taking in the pastel and neutral-coloured cushions that are either occupied by customers who are drinking beverages and having light chatters among themselves or furry cats of various sizes and coatings that are milling about or meowing for attention, before his steady gaze returns to the brunet sitting before him, a glass of iced chocolate in his hand. He freezes when his anxious green eyes meet Haruka’s serene ones.

 

            “Y-yes?” He hastily puts down his drink, his hands retreating to his lap and why, oh why did he – or rather Nagisa – think coming to a cat café is a good idea?

 

            “You like cats and coffee, huh?” Haruka stirs some milk into his coffee, sets the spoon carefully down on the saucer, and takes a small sip, all the while looking at Makoto without much change to his facial expression so that Makoto can’t exactly tell whether the tattoo artist is already bored to death five minutes into this.

 

            “I-I guess, yeah,” he chuckles, forelocks falling into his eyes as he lowers his head slightly and unable to hide the nerves even in his voice. Just then, a white kitten with inquisitive golden eyes about the size of Makoto’s hand attempts to crawl into the man’s lap, its little paws clawing helplessly against the fabric of his jeans. Momentarily distracted by the creature, and also thanking whatever spiritual power that’s overlooking him for this disruption, Makoto gently picks up the kitten and cradles it in the crook of his arm, fingers lightly brushing the soft fur on its head, and the feline purrs happily as it snuggles more closely into Makoto’s embrace; he smiles down at the animal, the tension from a few minutes ago forgotten and melted away.

 

            Haruka watches this subtle change in silence and almost unintentionally, a tiny smile begins to tug at his lips as well. When Makoto remembers he has a human companion and looks up in embarrassment, however, Haruka immediately hides behind his mug of steaming coffee, pretending to take a long sip only to have his tongue burned by the scorching liquid.

 

            “Damn it!”

 

            “Nanase-kun, are you alright?” As he leans forward in concern, the jostling startles the kitten and it quickly scrambles off and out of Makoto’s arms to seek comfort from another patron.

 

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” Haruka’s words slur a little due to the fact that he has his tongue sticking out into the cooler air, and his expression is so ridiculous at this moment that Makoto can’t help but burst into laughter muffled by an arm thrown across his mouth, but his body is shaking and his eyes shines a brighter emerald in mirth.

 

            “Shall I be glad that my pain is a source of entertainment for you?” There is no hint of annoyance or rage in his voice, just a quiet sort of amusement at seeing the man laughs so openly for the first time, even if it’s at the expense of himself.

 

            “I-I’m sorry— ”

 

            “Mako-chan, Nanase-kun! Fancy seeing you here!”

 

            “Nagisa.” At the sudden, unexpected appearance of the blond, who is dressed clearly as one of the employees in the shop in a simple white button-down shirt, jeans, and a pastel blue apron with the café’s logo in the shape of a kitten curled around a coffee cup stamped on it, Makoto sends him a meaningful glare, silently demanding why the hell he’s here despite the fact that he had made sure to check that his friend will not be working today.

 

            “You’re Rin’s friend from school – Hazuki-kun, right? Do you work here?” Haruka either misses the way Makoto is staring daggers at the blond-haired man or has chosen to ignore it.

 

            “Just ‘Nagisa’ is fine, you know. And yes, I work here part-time.” His grin is bright and absolutely harmless, but Makoto knows better.

 

            “Why are you here?” Makoto asks, teeth clenched tight as the words hisses through. “I thought it’s your day-off.”

 

            “Oh, don’t give me that hateful look, Mako-chan. It’s so unbecoming of you,” Nagisa tuts with a mocking frown. “Aii-chan is sick today, so I’m working his shift. It’s not like I’m here on purpose to spy on you or anything.” He has the decency to give Makoto a sly grin, and skips away to narrowly avoid Makoto’s incoming sway of his hand. “Anyway, it looks like you two are having a grand time, so I’ll leave you be!” With that, he dances away to another table, where a small group of teenage girls are giggling at the man’s approach to take their orders.

 

            “He seems to lead a carefree life,” Haruka turns back to Makoto.

 

            Makoto chuckles, stirring the ice cubes in his drink before taking a tentative sip. “You should see how he tackles school. I wish I have half of the energy and enthusiasm he has; then maybe I wouldn’t feel so stressed about everything.”

 

            “You don’t seem like the type,” Haruka comments, curiosity seeping into his tone without his noticing.

 

            Makoto can tell where he’s going with this, and the suggestion that Haruka seems to be judging him purely based on their initial meeting is making the brunet a little uncomfortable, and a bubble of irritation is threatening to make its existence known. He admits that he can be socially awkward, and sometimes just downright embarrassing, at times, but it hardly seems fair that that was the only image of Makoto the dark-haired man is willing to see and hold on to. If anything, today’s goal is to ensure that he can give Makoto a second chance – to erase that first meeting and to establish his true self.

 

            Makoto’s chest is burning with determination, and yet, his nervous inclination and tendency to stutter while talking to and trying to impress a certain blue-eyed tattoo artist will be his downfall; he’s certain of this, and the flame that’s burning so lively a short moment ago is almost entirely doused.

 

            ‘It’s no use,’ Makoto sighs, listlessly stirring his drink. He’ll try to explain himself though; that’s the least he can do.

 

            “Look, just because I was drunk the first time we met doesn’t mean that I drink irresponsibly all the time, all right? We were celebrating Nagisa’s victory at one of his swimming competitions, and yes, I went a little overboard. Let me assure you: I have paid dearly the next morning.” And he isn’t merely talking about the hangover either. The realization that he had made an utter fool of himself in front of the good-looking tattoo parlour employee from the previous night was enough to make him blush that entire morning.

 

            Haruka blinks, surprised that this man can tell right away, and then the flush of shame paints across his pale cheeks. He lowers his gaze in a silent apology.

 

            “I guess I have more than a silly misunderstanding to apologize for.” Haruka says, his finger tracing patterns on the ceramic cup, raven locks falling into his eyes.

 

            Neither of them seems to know what else to say at this point, and it’s precisely because of this possibility that Nagisa had suggested a date at the cat café in the first place. “Cats make for excellent conversation starters,” he had told Makoto a few days ago when he received Haruka’s unexpected text. “And if everything fails, just play with a kitten and look like your usual cute self. Mako-chan, you’re good at that, and there’s no way Nanase-kun won’t fall for that face.”

 

            At the time, Makoto could only give him a confused stare, and once again he questioned himself why he thought going to Nagisa for practical advice was an actual, viable option.

 

            Currently hidden by the screen that separates the store front and the hallway that leads to the kitchen, the blond is about to intervene but he stops when he sees Makoto’s unwavering green eyes flash up.

 

            “I know!”

 

            “Hmm?” Haruka is momentarily taken aback by the vivacity of the brunet’s expression – that child-like marvel in his eyes and dimpled grin curving on his lips and how stunning Makoto Tachibana really is.

 

            “Let’s start over.”

 

            “What do you mean?”

 

            Makoto holds out his hand across the table, a gentle but playful smile lighting up the verdigris of his irises, and begins, “My name’s Makoto Tachibana. I’m a university student majoring in literature who works part-time at a bookstore; I have an excessive fear of needles so I don’t know if I’ll ever have the guts to get a tattoo, but your designs are so terrific that I might actually consider getting one in the distant future. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

            When he comprehends Makoto’s intention, Haruka nods and grasps his hand in return. “Haruka Nanase. Part-time tattoo artist and part-time art school student. It’s nice to meet you as well.” His words, like his art style, are brief and without hollow, flowery artificiality; Makoto knows that it’ll be some time before Haruka will open up to him completely.

 

            For now, however, just being able to start over again and seeing each other in a refreshed light is enough.

 

            From there, it seems like the flow of conversation becomes slightly smoother, though the occasional blocks of silence are not uncommon, nor are both men entirely comfortable with it yet. But the fact remains that they are willing to put their first meeting behind them, and maybe Nagisa is right all along: having cute felines crawling all over their legs and playing with them is a great distraction that also serves as a conversation topic.

 

It turns out Haruka is a cat-lover as well, and though his apartment doesn’t permit its tenants to own any pets, he spends a few hours each week volunteering at a local cat shelter. And here Makoto is, thinking that this man couldn’t get any more attractive than he already is.

 

            Perhaps he’s getting ahead of himself, because before he can even contemplate the possible connotation of his invitation, Makoto already finds himself asking, “If you want, you can always come over to my place. I just recently adopted a one-year-old tabby – a mischievous little ball of fluff – and I’ve been trying to get him to get more used to being around other people. He’s usually very affectionate, but you don’t want to see him when he’s with strangers.”

 

            When he notices the thoughtful gaze Haruka is giving him, the coffee cup at the edge of his mouth as he listens intently, Makoto suddenly realizes that maybe he’s been talking too much and immediately shuts up, a hint of uncomfortable warmth rising in his cheeks. “Ah, sorry. Once I get started, I tend to lose track sometimes.”

 

            “It’s alright,” Haruka places his empty cup down with a delicate clink, and after a short pause, he replies, “I’d like that, actually.” He turns his head to the side, unable to meet Makoto’s eyes and his skin feeling strangely warm all of a sudden. He blames it on the stuffy summer weather despite the full-blast of the air-conditioning inside the café.

 

            “It’s a date then.” There’s no reserve in Makoto’s tone, just genuine anticipation and a hint of confidence that isn’t there before.

 

            “Yeah.” He can’t help but let the corner of his lips curl into a smile, cerulean irises finally finding Makoto and discovers that the brunet’s expression reflects his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to end the story with a kiss, but nope. I guess it’ll have to wait for the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just say how fun it is to write drunk!Makoto? I imagine him to be one of those people who are oddly adorable/hilarious when drunk, but will swear a lot (not because he’s angry or anything, but because that filter is just gone after a few drinks). I also really want to write MakoHaru doing the frickity-frack soon, and how Makoto gets to see Haru’s tattoos and hear about the stories associated with each of them. Ah. Hope you peeps enjoyed it!


End file.
